I remember when I was little, my dad would go on business trips. The concept always seemed so romantic to me. To get to fly half way around the world to meet with people because you were so important that someone was willing to pay for that trip. I’ve always wanted to have a job that would allow me to go on business trips. Maybe not for my whole life, but it would be really amazing for a few years. Even if you have to spend most of the time working, there’s got to be some time where you can get out and see the world.
I’m going on my first intercontinental trip. It’s a business trip. I’m sitting in the airport, thinking about all this while I eat some overpriced slop and watching a depressingly ugly woman shovel lettuce and “turkey” into plastic takeout boxes. It must be terribly depressing to food service work at the airport. You have to get up at the butt-crack of dawn, be x-rayed, and searched on your way in, then spend all day shoveling shit into boxes for “important” people who are always in too much of a hurry to be friendly. It’s got to be at least as lonely as I hear business trips become after a while.
Today, I’m grateful to be on this side of the counter.
I’ve been sick all week. It sucks. I’ve noticed that I’ve become more prone to falling ill in the last year, but I can’t decide why. It could be any number of things. I’ve changed so much in my life. I’ve decided, at least for this time, to blame Disneyland. No place on Earth crams so many snot-nosed brats into such a small space. And let me tell you, Disneyland plays host to some of the snottiest and nosiest of brats. Next time I go to Disneyland, I think I’ll bring an IV of orange juice. Hey! I wonder if I can skip ahead in line if I walk around with one of those cool hospital style mobile IVs.
